Quaranteam 808 State Ch 05 06

Author's Note:

As always, mahalo nui loa to CorruptingPower (Devin McTaggert) for permitting me to write in the story universe he created. And mahalo to my fellow spin-off writers, for their encouragement, feedback, and excitement — it certainly helps my writing process! If you haven't read the spinoff stories by BreakTheBar, AgathonWrites, SilverRyden, BirchesLoveBooks, RonanJWilkerson, OtterlyMindblowing, The_Licentious_Laureate, 32inch, BronanTheLibrarian, and lokisluckwriting, please, treat yourself and go do so! And mahalo to you also, readers, for your feedback and encouragement, particularly regarding the bits of Hawaiʻi and Hawaiiana I have shared so far. I'm eager to share more, but Mal needs at least SOME protection before I let him be any stupider than he already has been. Don't worry, we'll get there.

Regarding the use of non-English words, and the Glossary, I tallied up the comments posted before my cutoff comment, and based on the results at that point, I will be moving the Glossary in each submission to the end. I realize that won't make everyone happy, but it had the greatest number of comments in favor of it, regardless of the method I used to count ("End of Chapter" was #2 or #3). If anyone has any questions about the tabulating methodologies I used, shoot me a message in the Lit system and I'll respond in detail (once I get it - since the system doesn't always seem to forward messages). Cause nobody wants me to start geeking out about a spreadsheet when they just want to read the damn story, yeah?

Chapter 5

July 11th, 2020 - 4am

Mal woke up in his bed — alone. It was still dark outside, and a glance at the clock showed him it was just after 4 am. Try as he might, he couldn't stop from waking up at that hour. Decades of waking up that early to get ready and drive into town — first on Oʻahu, and then on the Big Island, had left him with a permanently wired 4 am body alarm. But Gwen was not a natural early riser, so why wasn't she in the bed? They'd both retired to the master bedroom and their king bed last night — depressingly for Mal, without anything more for him than a somewhat perfunctory-returned hug from Gwen. He didn't hear the bathroom fan running, or see any light, so she clearly wasn't in the attached master bath. Mal slipped out of bed, pulling on a long sleeved shirt to ward against an early morning chill.

He left the master bedroom, and carefully opened the door to Katherine's room. He poked his head inside, and confirmed the little girl was still slumbering in her bed. Quietly closing the door, he went into the living room, and to his surprise, Callie was "sitting sphinx" in front of the door to the studio. Puzzled, Mal gently nudged the dog to move and opened the door. Gwen was sleeping in the bed in the studio, snoring gently under her heavy blanket. Mal silently sighed, then quietly pulled the door shut and returned to his bed to try and wrest a couple more hours out of the sandman.

*****

An hour and change later, the morning noises from the chickens and birds finally penetrated Mal's slumber, waking him again. The early morning light was filtering in through the windows, indirectly, thankfully, as the bedroom windows faced west. Mal laid in bed for a few moments longer, relishing the all-too brief memory of not sleeping alone, and wishing that he was not waking alone. Not that Gwen had ever been a fan of morning sex, or morning cuddling, or the very existence of mornings, but Mal missed waking up by his wife — the long months of quarantining had allowed him to get somewhat accustomed to her absence, but the prospect of sleeping together last night, when the two of them had retired to their joint bedroom, had apparently resurfaced the lonely ache he now felt of his wife's absence from their marital bed.

Rather than wallow, he decided to badger himself into rising. "Well, shit, Mal. You gonna lie in bed all morning futzing about it, or are ya gonna get yourself up and get started on the day? Callie's gotta be fed, chickens gotta be fed and let outta their coop, and at some point, both Kat and Gwen will get up, and you gotta have breakfast ready for your daughter. No, you're right, Mal, I'm getting my ass outta bed. Gonna go feed the dog and make some coffee before all the other stuff I just told myself I gotta do."

With a grace trained over years of not disturbing his slumbering wife, Mal slid from the bed and quietly padded out of the room into the hallway. He opened Kat's door a crack — enough to see the little girl still sleeping. Callie had given up her post at the connecting door and was asleep at the end of the hallway — the soft thud of Mal's feet against the carpet was enough to wake the vigilant pooch, and the heeler stood as Mal approached.

"Gotta go potty, girl?" Mal opened the front door and unlatched the exterior security screen. Callie rushed through the opening, pausing once outside. "Okay then, go on, go do your business. But keep it down — Kat and Mom are still asleep — no barking when you're

pau

!" Mal instructed the dog in a low voice.

As the cattle dog tore off across the yard, bounding to the corner of the lot where she preferred to poop, Mal turned toward the kitchen, intent on making some coffee. He noticed that the light indicating available utility power was again illuminated, showing that sometime during the early morning, a HELCO crew had at last restored power to the local substation.

*Well, that's one small blessing. One small one among... ah, crud. Yeah, that's right. Gwen's laid off. Shit, we gotta think about what we maybe don't need to have. I'll find some work here and there, but there's always too many handymen. It won't be steady, or pay well.*

Mal scooped out the grounds for his daily dose, and then went outside — both to double check and verify that the auto-transfer switch had correctly de-islanded their home micro-grid, and to free the chickens for the day and collect the eggs they had laid overnight. About half of the hens — mostly the older ones, were reliable about laying only in their overnight boxes, and were therefore permitted to range freely. The younger ones had a tendency to dig a puka and park themselves, not coming in at night — they were confined to the wire run where Mal scattered some grain to supplement whatever bugs they might find.

The rooster, bantam bugger that he was, flapped down from the top of the coop, where he had his own little shelter, into the pen with the younger hens. "No you don't, Ajax. You go forage with the older ladies. Shoo." Mal quickly caught the mottled black-and-white and silvery bird and deposited him outside of the pen. Ajax gave Mal a baleful glare, then, catching sight of one of his current favorites, trotted off to puff in front of her.

Mal collected the three eggs he found inside the coop, then went back inside, Callie slipping past him as he went through the door, headed towards Katherine's room. During the day, he or Kat, or Gwen, now that she would be home, would check the pen and collect any eggs the younger hens might have laid outdoors.

The puffing and hissing from the coffee pot had ceased while he was outside, so Mal fixed himself an oversize mug with sugar and milk. He then sat down, glancing at his tablet. He opened up the Help Wanted section of Craigslist, and winced at the paucity of listings. He opened the most recent one, posted two days ago and read:

AUTO REPAIR NEEDED - Pahoa

Shade tree mechanic needed to fix...

Mal stopped reading — he was no auto mechanic, so anything that was wrong would take him too long to diagnose, let alone fix. Not an effective use of his time. He went to the second ad, posted three days ago.

URGENT CATTLE REMOVAL - Glenwood

My neighbors cows broke down the fence and are eating my plants! At least a dozen stay my property, but the rest of the herd spread to my neighbors. Their owner isn't answering his phone, and nobody stay home! The County's loose cattle hotline hasn't returned my calls either. Need someone to get them ASAP!

*Damn,*

Mal thought to himself.

*Good thing I met up with Evelyn — that could have been us. Too bad she's not able to handle more cows, sounds like their owner might not be with us anymore.*

That thought made him think of Mitch and his wife, Evelyn's parents, and he said a silent prayer for their recovery.

"Daddy!? I'm up, are you awake?"

"Nope, I'm asleep sitting at the table, drinking coffee."

"You can't be asleep if you're drinking coffee. May I have scrambled eggs and rice for breakfast, please, King Daddy?"

Mal raised his eyebrows slightly — Katherine had apparently gotten over her "yucky eggs from a chickens bottom" phase. "Certainly, my little princess. Could you please feed our hungry court jester doggie while I make your royal breakfast?"

"Princess Katherine" giggled and motioned imperiously to Callie, "Come, follow me, Court Jester Callie. I will feed you your..." Kat paused, trying to think of an appropriate fancy-sounding word. "... your superendous kibble!"

Mal quickly scrambled some eggs for Kat, himself, and Gwen, dishing out his and Kat's portions, and covering Gwen's. Kat received her eggs and some reheated rice and some milk — Mal watched to see if there was a transition from "yucky eggs," to "yucky milk," but fortunately, not today at least — the little girl straightaway took a big gulp from her cup.

"Are we going to help Auntie Evvy, Auntie Kirs, and Auntie Heaven move the cows again today, Daddy? That was hard work yesterday — my butt is sore from the bouncy tractor!"

"Kat! We don't say 'butt,' if you're talking about your bottom. Not until you're as old as Mommy and Daddy. You can say, 'bottom,' or

'ʻōkole

,' or 'heiny,' or 'tookus,' or 'bum.' And Mom might still scold you for some of those — sorry, kiddo, that's just part of being a kid.

"But," Mal shot a pretend glare at his daughter as her hand flew towards her mouth, "I'm not talking about a bottom, missy. To answer your question, no, we're not going back today. We finished the cattle drive yesterday, when we got the herd to the new pasture. Auntie Evelyn will leave them there to graze for a bit, then she'll start moving them back towards us. If they're only moving one pasture at a time, she doesn't have to have help." Mal's phone chimed with an incoming message, which he quickly glanced at.

The little girl slumped a bit. "Oh. Yesterday was fun. I liked being out and doing something new and meeting Auntie Heaven and Auntie Kirs." Kat let out a big sigh and put her chin on the table. "Daddy, how much longer before I can go back to school? I miss my friends, and playing on the playground."

Mal came around the table and knelt next to Katherine's chair. "I know, honey. I'm sorry, I wish I could tell you when it will be over, but I don't know. But I'm sure your friends and the other

keiki

miss you as well. Don't worry, sweetie, you'll get to see them on Zoom when at-home kindergarten starts up! And probably some new friends too! That's something to look forward to!"

While still keeping her chin firm against the table, Kat rotated her head to the side and rolled her eyes at her dad. "Not the same, Daddy."

Mal sighed. "Yeah, I know, honey. But I know something that will cheer you up. But you gotta eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

Kat quickly wolfed down her eggs and washed them down with the rest of her milk. "OK, tell me, Dad!"

Mal tapped "Send," on his phone. Seconds later the door separating Gwen's quarantine studio from the rest of the house opened and she stepped through it.

"MOMMY!!!" Kat leaped out of her chair and darted around the table, crashing into her mother. "Mommy-mommy-mommy!" Kat was sobbing, and clutched Gwen as if she were afraid that her mother would vanish if she let go.

Mal joined the two of them, kneeling next to them on the floor. "It's okay, kitty-Kat. Mommy's back with us. We don't have to Zoom with her anymore, and if you want to give her a hug, you can do it right away — no more waiting, no more spacesuit hugs. And Mommy will get to stay home with us and help us with the chickens and the garden and your schoolwork! Yay!"

"Really, Mommy? You're not going away again?" Kat sob-asked.

Gwen stroked her daughter's hair, "Really, honey, I'm not going anywhere."

-=#=-

Author's note:

In case you're not familiar with the term "code-switching", it's when an individual alters the way they speak or present themself to accommodate the particular situation they're in. There's some of that going on in this next chapter. Back and forth. First Lieutenant Knox and Staff Sergeant Hitchens (aka, Shannon and Jim) will be "Shannon" and "Jim" when they're presenting "happy, normal people who just happen to be permanently bonded by a sexually transmitted vaccine" to Mal and Gwen. Not that what they're presenting is false — they're just heavily leaning into it. But they switch to "Lieutenant Knox" and "Sergeant Hitchens" when they need to for a particular topic of discussion, or for the latter, when his focus slips. Civil Affairs personnel — like First Lieutenant Shannon Knox — are MASTERS at code-switching.

Chapter 6

July 11, 2020 - mid morning

The family was out in the yard, Gwen having finished the breakfast she made for herself after Kat had finally released her hold on her mother. Mal had offered to make her something while Kat was clinging like an

ʻopihi

, but Gwen declined, again, preferring to reheat her own rice, although she did appreciate the scrambled eggs he'd left for her.

Mal was planning how best to expand the garden. The beauty of volcanic soil was that it was so damn rich — you could pretty much just toss your seeds into it and they would grow. You only had to amend the soil if you had too much clay or sand, or if the pH wasn't quite right. But the flipside was that EVERYTHING grew well, weeds and grass included, making garden border control critical.

Mal had pulled his remaining plas-wood decking boards out of the shed, and was laying them out, trying to decide if he should expand the existing plot or make a second separate one. Gwen and Kat were off wandering around the property, the little girl intent on showing her mom everything that had changed since Gwen had gone into quarantine, and Callie was mostly tagging along with them, although every so often, she would come back to ensure that Mal was still present — the cattle dog checking that her human herd was all still accounted for.

Nobody noticed when the black unmarked sedan pulled into the driveway and stopped in front of the gate. When the horn honked, Mal came around from the side of the house. Moments later, Callie came thundering up alongside, stopping just in front of him, barking and growling in warning.

Two masked figures — one male, one female — exited the front doors of the sedan. "Malcolm Pilchard," the female figure called loudly. "I'm Lieutenant Shannon Knox with the US Army. Staff Sergeant Jim Hitchens of the US Air Force and I are here to talk to you and your wife about the pandemic."

*****

"Wait. You're telling me that 90% of the male population of Hawaiʻi is dead? That can't be right — I still chat online with some of my friends from

hanabata

days who are back on Oʻahu!" Mal was exceptionally distressed at being told the scope of the crisis — once he and Gwen had signed the NDAs.

The black case sat on the dining table with the swab samples from the three human members of the Pilchard family; Katherine had demanded that her fur-sib be swabbed as well — rather than argue about it, Mal had simply asked for another swab and told Callie, "Sit," then handed it over to the blond

haole

Lieutenant who pretended to insert it into her device while Gwen shooed the child and dog outdoors.

Lieutenant Knox, Shannon, as she'd asked them to call her, tried to calm him, "No, Mr. Pilchard, not yet. But that's where the current projections are placing the casualty rate. And there simply isn't enough vaccine produced yet to prevent it. Or for that matter enough to inoculate a panicked mob storming vaccination centers, which would only spread the virus faster."

"So, now that you've tested us for... you called it DuoHalo, would you please tell me why we've all been quarantining and social distancing because of Covid-19? Why aren't you testing us for that? And why are you even telling us there's a vaccine if there isn't enough to help Hawaiʻi." Gwen was thinking about the number of customers who had stopped refilling their prescriptions in the weeks before the pharmacy was shuttered — there had been far more female names than male in the active queue toward the end.

"There's not enough for the general population yet, but there are certain parts of the national economy that require stability to avoid regional health crises; healthcare, shipping, food production. We're here because of the last." Sergeant Hitchens had a flat tone in his voice — that of a man who had lost the majority of his male friends.

"But neither Mal nor I are involved in food production?"

Shannon shot a look at Sergeant Hitchens. "No, you're not. I was recently seconded to the Air Force, and detailed to vaccinate Mitchell Kopua and his wife and selected partners as part of a food stability and public health mitigation effort. Unfortunately, Mr. & Mrs. Kopua were deceased by the time we arrived. Our backup option was to offer the vaccine to his daughter and we gave her the option to choose from among her surviving male associates based on a rapid compatibility assessment. Ms. Kopua felt that the rough assessments were... wildly off base for all of them, and specifically suggested you, Mr. Pilchard — we understand you helped her with her family's herd a couple of times? Our records don't show you having any livestock experience." Shannon raised her eyebrow quizzically.

"Uh, no. Unless you count riding a horse a few times as a kid. And I didn't do much to help — just drove a tractor and opened and closed a few gates. Evelyn and her friends did most of the herding." Mal shook his head. "There must be more qualified people to help her, even if they don't exactly get along."

"Mr. & Mrs. Pilchard, there are some unusual aspects to the vaccine. It cannot be administered to a man — for them, it's more lethal than the virus." Shannon held up her hand to forestall the obvious question. "But a vaccinated woman can transfer some immunity to her bonded male partner." She reached for one of Jim's hands and squeezed it gently, smiling at her partner.

Gwen interrupted, "Bonded? 'Some' immunity? How exactly does this transfer work? And the vaccine has no harmful side effects for women?"

"Aside from the bonding, which has some potential, but temporary, issues if excessively delayed, there seem to be no harmful side effects, so long as a vaccinated woman bonds with a male partner within a few days. Longer delays, up to a week or so are uncomfortable but still appear to have no permanent harmful effects, once a bond is effected.

"The immune transfer takes place during intercourse. A single vaccinated woman can confer about a 70% immunity to her bonded male partner. The current recommendation is about four female partners minimum per male. During the bonding process, the vaccine serum reacts with the male's semen, incorporating some of his genetic material into itself — the result is that contact with any other male's semen will cause an extreme immune response. A woman basically becomes highly allergic to any other man's semen."